


Support System

by 200percent_inlove



Series: death by absurdity. [2]
Category: Day6 (Band), K-pop, Red Velvet (K-pop Band)
Genre: F/M, Falling In Love, Friendship/Love, Jae is so whipped, Love, Love Confessions, Male-Female Friendship, Romantic Comedy, Romantic Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-08
Updated: 2019-01-08
Packaged: 2019-10-06 19:32:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17351261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/200percent_inlove/pseuds/200percent_inlove
Summary: I’m self-proclaimed Red Velvet trash. More specifically, Wendy trash.  And I really hope she knows.





	Support System

**Author's Note:**

> Happy New Year, everybody! I know I'm a week late, but I hope this applies nonetheless ^^;; I actually wanted to publish this before 2019 started, but alas, family gatherings and meeting up with friends during the holidays really took away my writing time. 
> 
> While writing this story, I realized that I'm now caught in this dilemma where I don't know whom to ship Wendy with: Jae, or J-Hope?. SOMEONE, PLEASE HELP. THEY'RE BOTH SO CHARMING AND HILARIOUS ;_; However, Jae did win as the main character this time around, because who wouldn't want someone like him, fanboying and rooting for your success? (I certainly wouldn't mind LOL).
> 
> As a final note, I'm certain I screwed up some of the dates for their concerts, performances and what not. My apologies in advance, but I hope you all enjoy :3!

Ten months deep into this relationship of mine with Wendy. 

Which equates to many dates full of hand-holding through parks, thought-provoking conversations initiated over postponed anniversary dinners and late-night _bingsu_ runs. Her sneaking me into the SM building late in the night to compose a new song or two.  Me running over to the girls’ dormitory to teach her League of Legends.  Minor disagreements that we somehow always manage to work out without it escalating into tears, because Wendy’s just a complete _saint_ sent down from the heavens to make me better.  And a fair amount of mind-boggling sex with the details spared to keep this anecdote clean.                

A literal honeymoon, twenty-four seven. Life’s great and dandy.   

But, it’s just not enough. At least on my end, anyway. So here I am, fawning over Red Velvet’s new album releases, putting her collaboration with John Legend on repeat, and trading Seulgi’s photocards with Sungjin (Apparently, girl just continues to pop up with every CD purchase) for my girlfriends’.

“He’s insane,” Do-Woon sighs with a frown before wringing out his laundry.

“You might call yourself Red Velvet trash,” Brian corrects sharply one night, watching me tuck her RBB photocard into a laminated case in my collector’s book.  Seriously, didn’t the dude have anything else better to do? “But really Jae, you’re classified _Wendy_ trash.”

Poking me rudely on the temple, he snaps, “Are you even _listening_ to me?!”

I’m too concentrated on the task at hand to reply.  Once I’m done, I hold up the open book to Brian’s incredulous grimace and grin proudly, tapping my finger on the latest addition.  I wouldn’t say this one was my favourite; the ones from The Perfect Red Velvet, however – ten out of ten would surely collect again.  “She’s fuckin’ adorable with the pigtails, isn’t she?”

Brian lets out an awkward, strangled cough into the air.  “I believe they’re called braids – “ 

“I don’t need to be called out for mistaking hairstyles," I retort, putting an end to the conversation.  "I _just_ need you to agree with me.”

* * *

 

_180321, Afternoon_

“Sunscreen?”

Scurrying into the bathroom, I grab the tiny white bottle off the counter and toss it into Wendy’s outstretched hand.

“Check.”

“Travel-sized make-up products?”

“How dare you force me to run into the bathroom _twice_ ,” I whine with a dramatic sigh, flailing on top of her open suitcase with the cosmetics bag in my grasp. Ow, bad idea – the edges are digging painfully into my back. “Now, you’re obligated to pack me into your carry-on.”

“Sorry, wonderful boyfriend of mine. Your limbs won’t fit – unless you don’t mind me sawing them off.” As disgustingly vile and brutal her threats may be, she ends up sounding _so_ harmless. I commend her attempts at ruthless intimidation, but let’s be real: Her cute-as-a-button appearance nulls everything altogether.

“Last but not least, bikini?”

Cracking an eye open, she throws the rather sexy (And revealing – but what swimsuit isn’t like that?!) white two-piece on top of my face. The stretchiness and durability of women’s bathing suits never ceases to amaze me, considering that bottom was thin as hell and seemed so incredibly small I wasn’t sure if it would cover Wendy up. “How the hell do you even wear this?!”

A teasing smirk graces her lips as she sings, “I cooould, perhaps, give you a little taste.”

God damnit, the girl really knows how to push my buttons.  She’s so rude. “Play nice,” I point warningly, rolling myself off the bed and onto the hardwood floor beside her bedside cabinet. “You mock me enough as is.”

“So, you don’t want it? I guess I’ll just have to save it for – ”

“ ** _I NEVER SAID THAT_**.”

While she busies herself in the bathroom (Disrespectfully stripping and throwing her clothes _into_ the hallway so that I had a clear view, that bitch), I open one of the drawers and, to my surprise, dig up an unopened copy of The Perfect Red Velvet.

Man, as much as I hate to admit it, Joo-Hyun _noona_ in fishnet stockings, a blonde, short-haired Ye-Rimmie and Soo-Young in a sports bra were things that I will always find a place in my heart to appreciate.

(P.S., Wendy is aware and agrees with me that her members are hot. Don’t worry.)

What else was Wendy hiding in there? Scrounging more, I pull out The Perfect Velvet – easily recognizable with the creepy-looking mansion and the green lawn – and The Red:  The golden trio of records that sat within my top five. Leafing through the photobook to admire their creepy doll-like styling, I chuckle as a vivid memory of Wendy using the title track to insult me before we started dating pops back into my mind. Ah, wonderful memories, indeed.

“I’m back – hey, what are you doing going through my stuff?”

“Oh, welcome,” I say, holding up the CD. “I didn’t know you collected your own albums? How cute. You’re helping your group boost your physical sales.”

“Not for that purpose!” Wendy snaps hotly, crossing her arms against her rather accentuated chest. Hold up just one second. Are bikinis designed to make one look curvier, or was it just this particular style? Either way, I’m liking what I’m seeing. 

“Nothin’ wrong with striving for that win on Inkigayo,” I chuckle, storing the albums back in their original place.

“Well, it makes for a nice keepsake!”  Huffy, she was about to storm off into the living room before I reflexively cage her against the doorframe. Wow, okay. First, I’ve been watching too many Korean dramas to pull off that infamous Lee Min-Ho move (Or Song Joong Ki, I don’t really care). And second, at this proximity, swimsuit Wendy becomes a major distraction.

“You know what you really should be doing, Wen-Wen?” Voice husky, I slowly start tracing circles against her abs. And clearly, that was enough for her to loosen up the tension and relax into my touch.  

“(Why do I put up with you?) What is it now?”  

“I actually never got my albums signed.”

“Is this – “ She struggles heavily, now clenching the sides of my t-shirt. “Your way of torturing me into getting my members to sign it as well so that you can – _ngh_ – sell it for an inflated price when you go back to L.A.?”

Not as much as it is a means to get her in the mood, but she knows me well enough by now. “I have all your albums. I just want _your_ signature,” I emphasize, wanting so badly to tug off her bikini strap. “And I want the _whoooole_ fan-sign experience, too! With sticky notes, uncomfortable questions and forcing you in a Pikachu headband!”

“I’d like to point out that you’re getting better fan-service than all ReveLuvs out there.”

“That may be,” I agree, yanking her towards me. “But, how can I resist the temptation? I’m a selfish man.”

“A _perverted_ , selfish man.”

* * *

 

_180715, Afternoon_

I detested Rookie when it was first released, but Wendy likes to point out time and time again that it was her killer vocals and her _‘Olhji, olhji boy!’_ in their title track that made me approach her in the first place.

_#Romantic._

In any case, when Wendy told me that they were preparing to break into the Japanese market, a strange inkling of fear was always nagging at the back of my brain. To the best of my knowledge, Japanese idol groups often saturated their music videos with crazily colourful costumes and sets, songs with cute choreography and ridiculously mediocre lyrics. Not _too much_ of a difference from the cutesy K-Pop scene (A la the now defunct Orange Caramel), but I was clinging onto that small glimmer of hope that they would rebel against the norm and debut in the wacky, quirky world of Japan with their sensual velvet side.

Much to my vexation, my hopes were shattered with #Cookie Jar.

Okay, being honest, the all-pink outfits contrasted with their baby-blue pyjamas (If...that’s what I could classify them as?) weren’t _too_ terrible, and the girls still looked fresh and fun without the typical tackiness that accompanied retro concepts. Plus, those desserts that they kept showcasing throughout the video? Absolutely delicious, minus the inevitable diabetes. Once the song ended, however, I slam the laptop shut so loudly I terrify the bejeesus out of Wendy.

I didn’t know what to say – or how to _react_ , for that matter. Was this supposed to be a homage to dance-pop often found in the 70s and 80s? I wasn’t sure. All I knew was that it lacked power like their close relative, Dumb Dumb, and that the song fell really short. 

“Well?” She asks meekly, holding a pillow to her face.

“#Cookie Jar is too similar to Rookie.”

“Hence, why I didn’t want you to listen to it,” Wendy explains, fumbling around with the TV remote. Basic damage control:  Attempt to change the channel to something else more impactful to block out the memory of that music video. “You know what we _should_ do?” She shouts suddenly, driving the volume up as a familiar whistle resounds throughout the living room. “Listen to Jen-Jen’s Ddu-Du-Ddu-Du! Now, _THAT’S_ a song you should be streaming!”

“As much as I love BLACKPINK, Wendy,” I say, wiping my glasses with my shirt.  “They’re popular enough as is. Besides,” I add quietly, interlacing my hand with hers. “Even if I can’t fully appreciate the song, I still want to support you.”

“I’m just saying, you don’t _need_ to like every single release.”

“Well, I mean – “

“A _good_ boyfriend would provide unconditional support,” Wendy cuts in sharply. “But, an even _better_ boyfriend would point out what needs to be improved and constructively criticize his girlfriend.”

“Aside from your somewhat clumsy dancing? There’s nothing for you to improve! Vocally, you’re perfect _as is_!”

And that, ladies and gentlemen, was the undeniable truth. No bias there.

She ends up flushing as red as a tomato, stuttering adorably, “D-don’t say things like that.” 

We put an end to the discussion with a Netflix original in the background and Wendy drifting off into dreamland whilst drooling uncontrollably onto my shoulder. Meanwhile, I open up the laptop once more and log onto my forever-dormant Twitter account. While I’m tempted to change my username to WendysBae, I don’t think MyDays would take it well. Instead, I type up one sentence.

_‘Stan talent when you see it. Stream #Cookie Jar.’_

Contrary to what you all might be thinking, _technically_ speaking, this is not an example of providing unconditional support.

All I’m doing is _‘drawing attention for their first Japanese mini-album release.’_

“No matter how you put it, it _is_ unconditional support,” Brian smugly points out later that night to my annoyance. “And you know it.”

“FUCK. **_YOU_**.”

“Nah,” He shakes his head airily, ducking the pillow that I had sent flying in his direction. “You do enough with Wendy as is.”

* * *

 

_180827, Early Morning_

“Go to sleep, you silly. I’ll see you tomorrow, anyway!”

Consider me extra, but I need my daily dose of Wen-Tamin (A mash-up of Wendy and vitamin; I’m witty as hell, aren’t I?). And being physically separated by the Sea of Japan wasn’t going to stop me from getting what I wanted – it is now that I must give thanks to the person whom invented the beautiful power that was Wi-Fi.

On the other side of the screen, Wendy’s make-up less and spectacles-wearing face frowns at me worriedly. The acne on my face must be brutal tonight. “Are you tired from practicing for your upcoming concert in Taipei?”

“Nah.” That’s a complete lie. We didn’t get back to the dormitory until nearly midnight – not because we were practicing, but because Do-Woon and Brian wanted to pick up some street food before heading home. My stomach is bursting at the seams as we speak. “I’m good. Besides,” I position my phone screen towards my computer, blasting out Red Velvet’s latest Summer release, Power Up. “I have to help y’all stream.”     

“The ReveLuvs will make us proud,” Wendy replies, adjusting her glasses. “Go to sleep and get some rest!”

“Five more times, okay?” I promise, voice wheedling with my palms pressed together. “ _Then_ , I’ll be satisfied.”

“So, be honest with me, Jae. Did you like it?”

“It’s cute and preppy,” Nodding approvingly, I click replay before turning my attention back to Wendy. “Fun, summery. It’s no Red Flavour, that’s for sure, but you can’t expect all songs to be a banger. I checked out the EP, too!  Blue Lemonade is a jam. Ye-Rimmie’s improved her vocals a lot.”

“All thanks to you!” Wendy’s expression is glowing with pride, her smile radiating on screen. Yeesh, any brighter and I’d be questioning if I was dating the sun. Even so, I can’t help but let my heartstrings twinge a tiny bit. “You were so busy with Day6 activities, but you still came over to help her practice when you should’ve been resting at the dorm. Thanks for being such a kind and patient teacher with her.”

It was sometime during their promotions for Bad Boy that Ye-Rim had caught my attention – and not in a good way, either. Pann and Nate (As unreliable as it was sometimes, considering the demographic that they catered) viciously attacked her online for laziness, terrible stage presence and poor synchronization.

Now, hear me out. Objectively, as a viewer, her dancing _is_ sloppy, particularly when she’s positioned next to Seulgi, whom has unbelievably precise control over her movements and her body.

On the bright side, that just meant ample room for improvement.  Ye-Rim wasn’t lazy – I mean, I met her multiple times and she was _far_ from lethargic. So, being terribly unqualified in comparison to her ever-so-busy boyfriend that was constantly on tour, I made it my responsibility to help the so-called ‘weakest link’ and bring her back to par with the other members.

Regretfully, I had no dance expertise to bring to the table, and Ye-Rim pointed this out when I arrived that night with Wendy in tow. Bluntly so, mind you. A word of warning if you ever become acquainted with Kim Ye-Rim:  Underneath that sickeningly sweet exterior of hers hides a savage, snarky temperament.

The very least I could do, though, was provide support in the next best thing:  Vocalization and tonality. And suffice to say, after listening to this comeback, I’m satisfied to know my efforts _weren’t_ in vain.    

(Her dancing is still questionable, but she’ll have to depend on jack-of-all-trades, Jeon Jung-Kook, for help there.)

“You don’t need to thank me,” I reply, waving to Joo-Hyun whom was walking around in their hotel room, packing trinkets and souvenirs back into her suitcase. “It's – “ My voice falters into a silence, my brain suddenly experiences a struggle in finding the right words. “Whatever I need to do to help alleviate the swelling of your eye bags, yo.”

Unbelievable. I studied to be a lawyer, and yet, my use of the English vocabulary is so pitiable.

“In any case,” I clarify with a reddening flush that I prayed to God would not be visible through the pixelated screen. “If I plan on marrying you one day, I want to be someone reliable not just to you – but to your members, right?”

“D-did you just,” Wendy’s complexion turns paler than a ghost as she splutters (Joo-Hyun dropping all of her packages onto the floor with a loud thud that echoed through the speakers), “Did you just – indirectly propose to me?”

I blink.

She blinks. Rapidly so.

Oh.

Oh, _shit_.

Wendy looks fucking dumbfounded. Like someone just walloped her good with their newly-released lightstick.

I’m sure I do, too. Maybe a tad more attractive, but not by a long shot.

Ugh, who am I kidding?!  Jesus, it was supposed to be a joke. (Well, _half_ of a joke – but she doesn’t have to know that!)

Seulgi – whom I had no fucking clue was hiding in the same room – pops into view from the bathroom, a hand covering her mouth. “D-did um, did Jae-Hyung _oppa_ just say what I think he said?"

_NOTHING HAPPENED, SEULGI._

“Um, n-nope!” Flailing about on my bed in sheer panic, I give the trio an exorbitant, hearty wave before shrieking, “I’m hanging up now. Good-night!”

The laptop is slammed shut, the power is off, my phone continues to play Power Up and I’m ninety percent certain I was going to suffer from a heart attack in a few seconds.

And realization soon slaps me in the face. Fuck. I _really_ did just drop the infamous ‘M’ bomb after a half year of dating before saying the ‘L’ word.

...IMPECCABLE TIMING, JAE.

* * *

 

_180916, Night_

Fortunately – or perhaps, _unfortunately_ – she doesn’t bother to bring up what had happened the night of our Skype call. I can’t gauge whether she’s just chosen to disregard it as yet _another_ case of ‘Jae and his big mouth’, but if that’s what she would like to label it as, it’s more than welcome.

I don’t see Wendy again until my birthday with her touring around Asia with the others, and even on the actual day of, I was in Bangkok drinking away my sins in a rowdy bar on Khao San Street with the Day6 members. Sure, they’re full of life when they’re wasted. But honest-to-goodness, being back in Korea with a strawberry shortcake from Paris Baguette with Wendy by my side was more my version of heaven.

Well, _close enough_ – if she hadn’t arrived forty-five minutes late.

“I’m so sorry!” She squeaks apologetically once she makes it to the front door, removing her shoes before running straight into my arms for a giant hug that I have oh-so-missed.

“The recording got pushed back an hour.” Winking at me, she adds with a light squeeze, “Forgive me?”

“Pft,” I scoff, pretending to pull away. “At least you’re here.”

Fuck. Maybe tonight wasn’t the best idea to put my smart mouth to use. There’s no mistaking the way her eyes seemed to waver with undeniable sadness, and the way her hands suddenly lay limp beside me for a moment.

Was today supposed to be special? I’m trying to rack my brain for any promises that we had made through texts or phone calls that had completely flew over my head, but sadly, I can’t seem to pinpoint anything. While I was digging through my memories, Wendy seems to recollect herself in the blink of an eye: That cheerful persona of hers manifests in front of me once again.

And I feel a hundred – no, make that a _thousand_ times worse. Damnit, Jae, of _all_ the things you could’ve said, you just had to go with _that_.

“A-anyway,” She stammers, placing a beautifully-wrapped package on the glass dining table. “I have a present for you!” With gentle prodding, she seats me down. “Go on. Open it.”

“I bought you stuff from Thailand, too,” I blurt out hurriedly, getting to my feet to retrieve the bag sitting on the bed – only to have Wendy forcefully push my shoulder down.

“No, no. Open this first!” Gosh, she’s persistent tonight. “Souvenirs can wait later!”

An eyebrow quirks upward in amusement at her sudden change in behaviour. “So, uh, is this supposed to be lingerie or something?”

“Stop being such a pervert, and just open the dang gift.”

Nope. I’m not going to just rip through the paper like a savage beast. I must make the process agonizingly slow, being excruciatingly careful with the tape just to watch Wendy squirm impatiently.

“Can you _please_ – ?”

“Shh. I have to concentrate.”

And at long last, the wrapping paper is folded into a delicate square beside my lap. Wendy passes me a withering grimace, while I only say matter-of-factly, “Paper’s dainty.”

Ah, I should’ve known. Looking down, I find myself staring intently at the white cylinder with a coral-pink coloured cursive logo emblazoned right in the middle. Slightly below were the words stamped, ‘RED VELVET OFFICIAL LIGHTSTICK’.

You have no idea how hard I’ve been searching for this.

I put more effort into this than all my midterms combined, frankly. I went to the SM Coex, only for the sales rep to tell my crestfallen face that they were all sold out. I even asked Wendy if she could hook me up with one – only for her to haughtily refuse.

Now, I realize why. She wanted to deliver one to me personally.

“Oh, my God,” I murmur in disbelief, twisting the cap open to marvel at the simplistic design. I’m not sure _why_ the dome was covered in extra newspaper, though. Maybe she fished this from the pile of broken rejects and stuffed it all prim and proper into the box as a gag gift. “You bought me your kimchi-coloured baseball bat?”

“Uh, excuse _YOU,”_ Wendy retorts briskly, flicking me in the forehead with her two-inch daggers. “It’s a kimchi dumpling lightstick.”

“…That’s the official name?” I chuckle, spinning the lightstick with my hand. Not surprisingly, she also signed the handle. Ah, my girlfriend knows me too well. “Who came up with something so shitty?!”

“You’re unbelievable. C’mon,” Wendy prods, gently this time around. There’s a certain tenderness to her voice when she says this that captures my attention. “Remove the wrapping and turn it on.”

I had half the heart to roll my eyes, considering that I already watched numerous unboxing videos on YouTube reviewing the lightstick, so I wasn’t expecting anything spectacular other than for it to shine vibrantly in the darkness.

Clearly, I was mistaken. My breath hitches when the old paper is cast aside, and I press the button to make the orb glow faintly.

Except – it wasn’t the group logo that was glowing. I don’t know how she did it, but somehow, in some way, she had removed the plastic dome. And in place of the RV, suspending in the tiny spherical space, was a photograph of us together from our first official date.

“Happy twenty-sixth, you loser.” Her hand tousles through my hair softly. “I hope you like it. Use it at our next concert, okay?”      

One thing is for sure, the dried mango and elephant keychain are definitely not going to top this gift.

* * *

 

_181020, Night_

Wendy has a voice that’s made for all genres, but my guilty pleasure is listening to her sing in coffee shop ballads. The feel good songs, if you know what I mean, like Last Love, Let You Know and I Can Only See You from their respective drama OSTs. The girl just fucking _owns_ it.

When she texted me that she was going to collaborate with John Legend (One of my favourite artists of all time), I was more than elated. Forget elated; I was freakin’ pumped.

Even without watching the music video, I knew right away that Written in the Stars was going to be an outstanding eargasm of soft guitar strums and elegant harmonies from the both of them. Some may consider it a snooze fest, but that’s on them. I put it on full blast during one of our breaks, and I wasn’t let down at all.

My only regret for this? Probably the fact that Wendy will never have a chance to perform this on public broadcast.

Still, she was my ballad queen, and she deserved all the praise.

The other guys stay behind in the practice room to clean up some of the equipment, generously granting me the privilege to leave early. Wendy, whom was already waiting for me at the emergency exit, waves enthusiastically at me.

Only to stop when I present her with a piece of costume jewelry:  A ‘rose gold’ (I use this term very loosely, because rose gold shouldn’t chip after dropping it multiple times on hardwood) tiara with emeralds and diamonds decorated along the rim.

“What is THAT?!”

“It’s for you!”

She can’t hide her smile when I place it daintily onto her head. Pulling onto the side of her skirt, she bows lowly, “A pleasure to have you present this diadem to me, Lord Jae-Hyung.”

“As you should be. Wait – “ My head snaps in her direction, perplexing curiosity written all over my face. “You call it a ‘ _diadem_ ’?”

“Tiara. Diadem. They’re interchangeable, aren’t they?”

“I’ve only heard diadem in the final Harry Potter movie.”

“How about that? Maybe witches’ blood is running through my veins after all.”

We only had an hour to spare tonight, so reluctantly (But not _too_ reluctantly, because time with her was always well-spent), we decide to stake out at a deserted 7-11 and heat up _ramyun_ to eat and talk. She lets me do most of the talking (Or, complimenting, to be frank), until I confess that it’s a shame nobody will ever see it live.

“Normally, we don’t promote SM Station songs,” She points out, swallowing a giant mouthful of Pocari Sweat. “I know what you mean though. Ballads are more my taste, and if I could, I’d request for more as B-sides.” Laughing bleakly, she adds, “But, we all know it doesn’t sell.”

I can’t help but wonder where the sudden bitterness comes from, but then, it hits me. Wendy’s talked about SM’s forceful pushing for her to fit into Red Velvet’s concept of being quirky yet hauntingly seductive. But deep down, she just wanted to sing ballads to her heart’s content. Being chained down and imprisoned by her company was something that I don’t think I could ever fully comprehend.

Still, seeing her like this agonizes my heart. Patting her head gently, I ruffle her bangs and suggest, “Doesn’t mean we can’t perform it together.”

Automatically, her face – particularly her eyes – lights up. So brightly, I can see my reflection through her dark brown irises. “You mean it? I mean, I’d love to go busking with you one day.”

I’ve never told Wendy, but I’ve always had this fantasy running wild through my head that one day, whenever we went public and Wendy and I were no longer restricted by our contracts, we’d be able to do whatever type of music we wanted together. Maybe as a duo like She & Him in the West, or like an indie version of KARD. Sure, we might not get our CF endorsements, the flashy photoshoots, sponsored clothing or the accessibility to high-performing recording equipment. And it’s guaranteed that we won’t be as successful if we stuck with our respective companies.

Still. It’s with her. And with her, I have a ninety-nine percent guarantee our future – while uncertain – seems optimistic.

“There’s more things that we can do together one day,” I reply. “But, in the meantime, what say we practice in front of an invisible audience one day?”

“Maybe we can ask Seulgi and Jiminie to join us, too.”

Returning her expectant gaze with a genuine smile, I nod. “I'm expecting our setlist in my inbox later.”

* * *

 

_181202, Morning_

The joys of flying are just like how I saw my hopes and dreams for the future:  Completely non-existent.

No, but seriously. Why do people enjoy airplanes so much?

There’s no Wi-Fi. It’s cramped. Poor air quality, which leads to terrible skin quality.  And I’m stuck sitting beside a Bob the Builder caricature whom snores like a pig rolling around in the mud.

Given that we were on the road and flying to perform, I didn’t have much time to follow Red Velvet’s newest comeback. But once my feet touched down on Korean soil, I hurriedly dropped off all my luggage into my room and – despite Brian’s constant mugging about not properly unpacking – jumped straight into the manager’s van to get to _Inkigayo_.

“Fuck,” I curse, earning myself a well-deserved glare through the rear view mirror from my manager. “I forgot the lightstick!”

“…Jae- _ah_ , stop swe – “

“ _SHIT_ , and the cupcakes!”

“Your sex toy and post-coital snacks are right here, dumbass.”

The last person I wanted to go with, Brian Kang, hands me Wendy’s gifts as he makes himself comfortable in the seat beside mine.

...And, lo and behold, the other Day6 members clumsily clamber on – Do-Woon and Wonpil fighting for shotgun in front of us with Sungjin hollering at them to shut up.

While I really did not prefer having the rest of the guys come along, there was one particularly beautiful thing about spending 24/7 with them.  They always give into my shit and indulge me – for whatever reason, I don’t know. I’m thankful for them, but I will never say this sappy shit out loud. No, no, no, sir.

We make it backstage in record time, just as Red Velvet were about to perform. It’s a shame that we can’t sit amongst their sea of fans to join in with the fan-chants, but I’m getting a rather good view from the sidelines (Hidden completely from view as well), so I can’t complain too much.

“Ouch. Who screamed?!” Sungjin winces, holding down his ears for a moment.

“V Live claims it’s Irene- _sshi_ ,” Wonpil replies, taking a sip of his coffee.

“…I don’t trust you.”

“It’s Joo-Hyun _noona,”_ I confirm, waving my personalized lightstick along with the fast-paced tempo of the song.

“See?!”

“OH, MY GOD. LOOK. SEULGI’S _RIGHT_ THERE,” Brian’s shrill scream pierces through the repetitive saxophone that resounds with the rhythmic snaps from the percussion. I can’t deny:  She looks awfully good in the red and grey ensemble. Seriously though, it’s _Seulgi_ – a better question would to be ask when does she never look good?

“I’d like to remind you that Seulgi is taken,” I snap, never taking my eyes off Wendy. Jesus Christ, that red crop down and that Ariana Grande-ish ponytail is doing her major favours today. And those jeans, with those boots? I’m in love.

(Off-topic:  Why is she always getting the short end of the stick from the camera man?! I’m going to give SBS a piece of my mind one day.)

My visual attention may be directed towards the girls (Particularly my girlfriend), but the guys are distracting me with their comments.

From “Who’s doing those adlibs, yo?” (Asked by Do-Woon) to “Ye-Rimmie’s got abs?!”, and also a “I’m surprised they put Joy- _sshi_ in that outfit, but it uh – certainly looks very good on her.”

Case closed:  We’re a fine group of young men.

Their performance comes to an end with Wendy’s high notes (You see what I mean when I say her vocals pack a punch in any sort of song?), and as much as I wanted to cheer like a mad man, our applause would’ve been drowned out by the massive group in the pit below us. I’m not mad though, because soon enough, we hear the clacking of heels and ‘ _Thank-you!_ ’s and ‘ _You’ve worked hard!_ ’ echoing in the hallway near the dressing rooms.

“ _Unni_ , isn’t that Jae-Hyung _oppa_ over there?”   

“Eh?”

Wendy doesn’t even have enough time to register my presence before I collide into her with the lightstick and the blue-frosted cupcake in tow. See, I even remembered her representative colour in Red Velvet. Don’t deny my awesomeness:  Jae is best boy.

“Whoa, Jae, why are you here?! Weren’t you supposed to be in – “

“Can I just say that I love RBB live?” I cut in, releasing her from my grasp. The girls – finished with their cooing over how adorably awkward we were – make small talk with Do-Woon and Sungjin, and gleefully tear into the treats.

“Did you, really? It’s kind of a hit-or-miss with some.”

“It’s a hit for me. Also,” Glancing down at the exposed skin from her crop top, I add quietly with a gentle tug at the frills, “Please wear this more often.”

“Well, I would, but certainly not at the rate that you feed us cake.”

I end up feeding her the entire cupcake, anyway, much to the irritation of my manager whom had to step outside for a ‘ _breath of fresh air from young romantic affairs_.’

* * *

 

_181231, Night_

It started off with a black leather jacket and a “Howdy, my name’s Jae” on the JYP Family collaboration stage at KBS’s Song Festival on the 28th. 

And ended with a “Yee-fucking-haw” from Wendy in all her fuchsia-pink glory when we passed by Red Velvet in the hallway backstage that very same night. Dragging me by the zipper into a secluded hallway, she whispered hotly into my ear, “Stop being so attractive.”

I snickered before prying her nails off my forearm. “ _Make_ me.”

“See you in a few days, then,” She said slyly, pressing a quick kiss to my cheek. She saunters off, leaving me mesmerized at her swaying hips before saying, “You better watch yourself mister, ‘cause you’re going to get it.”

God. I never knew speaking in cowboy lingo could attract women. It's only now that she has her hands running up and down my torso, leaving goosebumps and chills where she touched, that I was aware. Time to binge watch some Western movies on Netflix. 

“I must admit,” I say, my breath laboured from her ministrations. “I’m not used to this type of treatment.”

“What do you mean?”

“Y’knoow,” I drawl out, easing my way out of her hold and slowly onto my side. I didn’t want to be hovering over her when talking – my stamina isn’t how it used to be after all. “Having you fangirl over me. It’s a - “ I wonder if admitting my desires would seem cocky, so I settle for a rather neutral emotion. “Nice feeling.”

Suddenly, her warm hands squeeze my cheeks together into an unattractive pout. But that didn’t matter. What did, however, was what she says after.

“I love you more than you think, Jae.”

She tells me this very often:  Through texts, on the phone, in person.  This time around though, the amount of earnest conviction in her voice catches me vulnerably off guard.      

“I - “

It’s not that hard, is it? To tell someone you love them. I _want_ to tell her the same, I really do. Swallowing that rock-hard lump at the base of my throat, I attempt to get the words out of my system. “I love – “

Wendy quickly shuts me up with her lips instead, pulling me close to her. Let me just say that her presence is fucking intoxicating that I lose all train of thought. “But, y’know what?  Let’s do it right.” Wickedly, she smirks, “Start off 2019 with a bang, shall we?”

“The implications in your words, Wen-Wen,” I croon, pecking her nose playfully before diving my head into the crook of her neck once more. “I love it.  Let’s get it.”

And I throw the blanket over us, Wendy’s cheerful laughter soon transitioning into heated, heavy breaths and alluring moans of pleasure.  

* * *

 

 _190101, Morning_  

By now, you might have an idea as to why I behave the way I do.

It’s shameful to admit, but it’s not in my blood to express affection _too_ often. I’ve told Wendy about my issue with verbal declarations of love. That, when overused, it becomes meaningless to the ear. I didn’t want that.  Rather, I _really_ wanted ‘I love you’ to be something more than just a phrase I flung around carelessly.

She’s been more than understanding about my presumed lack of endearment, and even when she consistently reassures me that she’s alright with it, I’m aware it hurts her still.  That painful glaze that appears once in a blue moon when she’s having a particularly difficult time, and I always end up so disappointed in myself because all I can do is embrace and console her.

Needless to say, the guilt continues to eat at me like there’s no tomorrow.  I’d like to think that I’m doing my best in fixing this, slowly but surely, but on those days when everything sucks and depression looms overhead like a thundercloud, I just don’t think my efforts are paying off.

In the meantime, though, I guess that’s also why I show my appreciation for Wendy in peculiar, almost unorthodox wiles and ways. While some people (Once again, Brian Kang) may argue otherwise, I’d like to clarify that I’m not just ‘Wendy trash’ _just because_.

I collect their albums, recommend her solos and collaborations on my Twitter, and keep her photocard in my wallet because it’s my personal method of showing her how much I cared and how much I supported her aspirations. I might not be able to provide her with the verbal affirmation that others easily can, but the least I can do is celebrate her achievements, her goals and her dreams in what she wholeheartedly loves doing. Actions speak louder than words, am I right?  

(This is turning out to be much cheesier than I expected, God.)

Honestly though, as I whisk the eggs into the hot frying pan and grill the mushrooms and onions on the side, I don’t even know if my message gets across. Worst case, she views me as a gangly weirdo that collects girl group paraphernalia like a school kid would do with Pokémon cards. Maybe a change in tactics was in order – maybe I have to be more forward...    

I’m too deep into my thoughts that I don’t even sense her stirring to a wake and watching me from the bedroom entrance. It isn’t until she mutters a fatigued “Happy New Year” that I turn around, grinning at her disheveled appearance, AKA, my one and only weakness in this God-forsaken world:  My hoodie, my sweatpants swallowing her up. 

“And a Happy New Year to you, too.”

Wendy wastes no time in chortling at my frilly apron.  Making her way next to me by the stove, she chuckles lowly, “Nice.  You should wear pink more.”

“Princess in pink. Prince shall be in pink as well,” I tease, pinching her nose.  “Why are you up so early, anyway? You’re going to be in for a tough time the next few weeks when you’re away.”

“Missed your body heat.” Wendy shuffles closer next to me, and then without any warning, squeezes into the tiny space between my chest and the sizzling pan. God, she’s so adorably tiny:  I get to hug her without having to chase her around the apartment – this is a welcome change. “So, I guess this’ll have to do.”

As I continue cooking, and she and I talk about mundane things, she suddenly drops a question.  “Hey.  Do you have any resolutions for the year?”

I scoop the omelette into a plate sitting beside me, and Wendy cracks another egg into the pan.  “See,” I point out, and she glances at me, bewildered. “ ** _This_** is the type of support I need in a relationship.”

“Stop changing the subject and tell me!” Her reddening flush proves otherwise, but I digress.   

“Well, I guess,” I begin slowly, thinking back to the past year. Frankly, since dating Wendy, 2018 became much more turbulent – not that I cared.  In retrospect, it was a good type of frenzy. “Gaining weight. That’s a big one. I hope you know I’ve gained at least like two kilograms since we’ve gone official.”

“Not enough,” She reprimands, poking at my still-jutting ribs. “What next?”

“Um, secondly.” Wendy takes the opportunity to steal the spatula from me while I contemplated about my answer. “Making more music.”

“Not going to lie,” Wendy murmurs, her fingers dancing playfully along my exposed forearm. “I’m going to miss you when you go on your European tour in a few days.”

“As will I, Wen-Wen. At least you’ll be in the land of anime.” 

“That aside, we won’t see each other until at least – March, I think?”

“That’s why I say:  Follow your boyfriend by example, and keep my photocard in your wallet.”

“I uh, think I’ll pass,” Wendy giggles, leaning back into my shoulder. “Anything else?”

Growing solemn, I mumble through half-lidded eyes, “We’ve talked about this, and you already know.” Her body stiffens rigidly against mine, and I continue, “But, I’d like to slowly and surely learn how to express that I care about you through words better.”

“Mm.” Odd – I expected her to have more of a response to that.

Craning my head to the side, I glance at her skeptically. “The fact that you’re not really sayin’ anything doesn’t ease my worries.”

“You know what, Jae?” She finally says. “You don’t need to.” Turning around, she startles me by suddenly wrapping her thin arms around my waist. “You can continue being my number one fanboy, and I’ll be very happy. Leave it to me to say it.”

“No, Wendy – “

“I love you very much, Jae,” She murmurs, standing on her tip-toes to press her lips against my cheek. “And I know that, even without you saying it, you love me, too.”

...You know how earlier, I felt like a complete piece of shit and that I wasn’t performing my best as a boyfriend?  It’s unfathomably _incredible_ how when Wendy says things like that, I feel my heart melt, my mouth grows dry and those insecurities – strong as they are – fade away as if they had never existed in the first place.   

If I can serve to keep that pretty smile of hers intact, my God, I’ll continue to be her support system for as long as I’ll live.

* * *

 

“My wallet is too small to keep your picture in but,” Wendy pulls out her iPhone from the hoodie pocket, peeling the phone case off. Hiding underneath, undeniably, was my photocard from ‘SUNRISE’: My derp face with those Harry Potter glasses, and the awful dirty-blonde that I never want to speak of ever again. “I do take a piece of you wherever I go.”

“Lady, that is the _WORST_ picture!” I bellow so loudly, I think the neighbours knocked on the other side of the wall. “Give it back!”

“As if!” Wendy bolts for the bedroom, sniggering. “You’re the face of the group, you idiot! There are no terrible pictures of you!”

“Um, your camera roll would like to say hi.”

Inevitably, after five minutes of her straddling and tickling me into submission, I let her keep it.

“Only if you start your own collector’s book. Deal?”

“Challenge accepted."

 

**Author's Note:**

> And just like Jae in this story, I'd like to wish all my readers much success and, most importantly, happiness over the next year. Whatever you do, wherever you are, I'm rooting for you <3 c:!


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